


White Christmas; Black Coffee; Green Eyes; Blue Dress.

by all_my_ships_are_sinking



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Could Be Canon, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Introspection, Kind of angsty, Life After War, POV Ginny Weasley, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, deep thoughts, deliberate overuse of italics, depending on how you look at it, mention of nightmares, possible break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:03:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5583403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_my_ships_are_sinking/pseuds/all_my_ships_are_sinking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny introspection. Implied Harry/Ginny. Ambiguous ending.</p>
<p>War is not something that you get over in a day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Christmas; Black Coffee; Green Eyes; Blue Dress.

_White Christmas._

Those seemed to be the words on everybody's lips. It was, indeed, a white Christmas, but that shouldn't have been a big deal considering that it had happened every year for as long as she could remember.

She guessed that it probably _meant_ something, gave everyone something to focus on besides _It._

_'It'_ being the Final Battle. The Battle of Hogwarts. The End of Voldemort. The end of so many others as well.

It was the first Christmas without Voldemort, and she guessed that that in itself was cause to celebrate. It meant something; it was a milestone. It proved that life really did go on.

Except that it didn't, because it had been eight months.

It had been _eight months,_ and George still hadn't so much as spoken about his joke shop.

It had been _eight months,_ and Hermione's parents still didn't remember her name.

It had been _eight months,_ and students still broke down crying in the middle of the Great Hall, the corridors, the bathrooms - suddenly reminded of the loss of a friend.

It had been _eight months,_ and Harry still screamed in his sleep.

Eight months is a long time; it should have been enough.

It wasn't.

So when people started talking poetry about the beauty of a white Christmas, it was only the nail in the coffin in her mind that life hadn't gone on at all, and eight months wasn't as long as everybody had thought.

_Tap, tap. - "Ginny." - Tap, tap._

Hermione. She turned - _"Yes? What is it?" . "Nothing, Merry Christmas."_ \- she could see it. Hermione. Her smile said happy; her eyes said sad. Her parents were still in Australia.

_Eight months. White Christmas. Not enough._

She looked away, further down the table.

_Black coffee._

Harry had had another nightmare, she knew. He only drank black coffee when he hadn't slept, and he only didn't sleep when he woke up screaming from nightmares.

So, naturally, he drank black coffee at least three times a week.

_Eight months._

She had had nightmares, too, at first. Hers had stopped - for the most part - almost six weeks ago. Harry's kept getting worse - more hopeless, more gruesome, more frequent.

He had tried Dreamless Sleep Potion, but it's not safe to use every night, and as soon as he stopped using it the nightmares came right back - _worse, worse, worse._

She almost felt sorry for him, but then she remembered that he didn't want that, and instead she felt sorry for herself. Eight months is a long time; she was ready to move on.

Harry was not.

_Movement. He looked up. Smile - fake. As fake as plastic roses._

Their eyes met.

_Green eyes._

Harry had the greenest eyes she had ever seen. She heard he got them from his mother. She couldn't picture it.

People had compared his eyes to many other things, as well.

_An avocado. New leaves. The grass on the Quidditch pitch. Seaweed. A fresh-pickled toad._

_The Killing Curse._

They were all wrong. Harry's eyes had no comparison; there were no words she could find to describe them. They were just green, green, _green._

It was easy to get lost in them. She often did.

She wished she were the only one. She wasn't.

Sometimes, she could see it, what they all talked about. The darkness, the danger - still lingering inside his eyes, reminding everyone of what he had had to do when he was far too young.

Reminding her that eight months isn't a long time. It wasn't enough. Would it ever be enough? She wasn't sure if she was ready to answer that question; she didn't know if she ever could. Because maybe- _maybe_ -

Maybe the dead were meant to stay dead. Maybe it would never be enough.

Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe Harry would wake up tomorrow and smile and laugh. Maybe the nightmares would go away. Maybe he would start to look more like a man and less like the ghost of one. Then again, maybe not.

Was it worth the risk? She didn't know; she'd never know.

_Blue dress._

It was the nicest thing she owned - a knee-length, flowing, silk-soft baby blue dress - and she had already gotten seven compliments since she put it on in the morning. She looked at herself, and she didn't see it. She had loved this dress when she saw it in the shop window; she had loved it when she tried it on; she had loved it when a young boy - he couldn't have been older than fifteen - who had been working in the shop had stuttered and blushed when he saw her wearing it.

So she bought it. She put it in her closet with all her other clothes, and she bragged and raved about it for months. On a white Christmas, she decided to wear it.

She had received seven compliments since she put that dress on in the morning, and not one of them was from Harry Potter. She doubted he even noticed.

She hated it, really. She hated it because she didn't even know if he would have noticed, before. Before _It._

She had _wanted_ him to notice. She always had.

She knew that he loved her. She knew that. She knew that he was trying; she knew that it wasn't his fault; she knew that eight months wasn't enough.

_Eight months. White Christmas. Not enough._

She loved him, too; she always had. She loved his courage, his determination, his loyalty to his friends, his kindness. She loved his eyes.

But with his courage came his thoughtlessness. With his determination came his stubbornness. With his loyalty came his obliviousness. With his kindness came his self-sacrificing nature.

With his eyes came the darkness behind them.

_White Christmas. Green eyes. Is it enough?_

He was beautiful.

_White Christmas._

He was broken.

_Black coffee._

She didn't know if she could fix him.

_Green eyes._

She didn't know if she wanted to.

_Blue Dress._

Breakfast ended. She came to a decision. She stood up and walked over to Harry.

_Tap, tap. - "Harry." - Looked up. Eyes met. No smile this time. She nodded to the doorway. - "We need to talk." . "Alright." - Heart pounding._

_Eight months. Not enough._

_"Harry." She had made her decision. He smiled - pause - "New dress?" . "Yeah." - hesitation._

_White Christmas; black coffee; green eyes; blue dress._

_Is it enough?_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this word vomit that I wrote on a whim at midnight last night when I couldn't sleep.
> 
> So...thoughts? Do you think Ginny broke up with Harry, or did she end up sticking with him after all?


End file.
